If You Love Something
by Zo One
Summary: It will come back. AU; USUK; Merman!Alfred x Arthur
1. Chapter 1

**If You Love Something**

His hands traveled across shimmering blue skin, the rubbery sensation beneath his fingers sent warm shivers down his spine; long fingers, webbed and moist, cupped around his face, pulling him into a wet and possessive kiss. Thin teeth, slightly sharpened, used for catching and eating fish, nibbled at his lower lip, causing a type of erotic discomfort that he had grown to look forward to.

"Come here." The webbed hands moved from his face, trailing down his neck and chest, touching and rubbing all the places that made him swoon. He held his breath to keep from making satisfied noises, unwilling to give any verbal indication that he was enjoying the treatment. Those hands, damp and smooth against his skin, made their way to his naked ass to palm at the swells of muscle. He was pulled closer to the owner of the webbed hands, slowly shifting forward in response.

The man whose tongue lapped at his earlobe was no man at all. The owner of the damp hands, with eyes the color of the shallow sea, but held secrets that were deeper than the ocean, was one of the myth-shrouded merfolk.

A year ago Arthur wouldn't have believed it, wouldn't have even imagined in his wildest dreams that he would ever be in the position he was in now; one knee on each side of the merman's long, dolphin-esque tail, his hands being guided to the slit that was now just before Arthur's own growing erection. "Touch me," the merman mumbled into Arthur's ear, his voice warbling and deepened with lust.

Arthur's fingers circled the entrance of the slit, his fingertips growing moist as he rubbed and teased the rubbery and sensitive skin before slipping his fingers gently inside. The merman shuddered at Arthur's touch, his hands squeezing Arthur's ass in pleasure. The slender tip of the merman's cock brushed against Arthur's probing fingers and with familiarity he began to coax it out.

The merman's cock was long, pink, and tapered at the tip. His webbed hands moved from Arthur's ass to grip their dicks together in a damp hold. Arthur instinctively bucked into the sensation, his hands moving across the merman's smooth, streamline chest. "Arthur…" a soft nip at his shoulder, "Not enough…"

It was his cue, the verbal signal (whether it was intentional or not, Arthur couldn't tell) to raise his hips and lightly prep his loose hole before plunging himself down onto the merman's curved cock, pushing himself further and further down, until he was stretched to the point of pain, and at that point he lifted himself, his thighs shaking as the merman touched him everywhere – seemingly vivacious and unsatisfied.

And even though his body responded so positively, his back arching and fingers beginning to spasm, Arthur constantly reminded himself that he didn't want it, that he had never wanted it.

"Acknowledge me," the merman breathed out as Arthur rode him steadily. "Say my name; say you love me; acknowledge me."

His jaw opened and shut. Jagged pants were the only noise he was capable of. He didn't want to say it, to bind this strange spell further. But those hands were on him and those blue eyes, so mystic and surreal, staring into his own. Arthur's lips moved on what felt to be their own.

"I love you, Alfred," he murmured as his climax took him. "I love you."

* * *

A/N: So this is a little mini-series/drabble-series type thing that I decided to do while out vacationing.

Hopefully I'll be able to update this every day/every other day. :Db


	2. Chapter 2

**If You Love Something**

He supposed being stranded on an uninhabited island could have been worse, but after a few days since washing up on the pebbly shore, he had found that the island wasn't as empty and devoid of intellectual life as he thought – they lived in the ocean.

At first he couldn't believe his eyes. Mermaids of all things? Straight from the story books? Here? Of course he had heard the tales and the sailor stories, but to actually _see _something so mythological and absolutely impossible… Arthur had been sure that he was hallucinating.

For days he had watched them from the shade of the forest's edge, confused, awed, starving, and very alone. For days the mermaids called out to him, signing illustrious songs and plucking sweet notes from harps donned in seaweed. "Come and join us, young one. Come and listen to our song," they would cry to him as they ran bristled shells through their drying hair, their tailfins slapping at the surf and spraying droplets of water about.

After three days of watching and waiting, double checking and wondering if perhaps he was slowly going crazy, his fingers stained purple from desperate foraging in the bushes, Arthur fancied himself enchanted by the mystical creatures singing on the beach. On the fourth day he gathered up his courage, and when the mermaids called out to him, he obeyed.

They were ecstatic at Arthur's arrival, jumping and splashing about the shallows in glee. Arthur was more surprised that they hadn't been some realistic mirage created by his weary mind. Their hands were moist and webbed, the edges of their palms glistening with color that was unique to each mermaid. They fed him fish and muscles pulled from darkened shells, singing hymned songs as they washed and groomed him in a nearby freshwater pond – how he had never noticed it before, Arthur didn't know, but he certainly was grateful by its existence.

Arthur drank and ate cheerfully as he was neatly tended to. It had been a week since he had washed up on these deserted shores, and he had been positive that he would die on them, starving and dehydrated, as well.

As the group of mermaids worked, they never spoke directly to him, simply singing in watery voices and occasionally shooing off a younger maiden to fetch something. Arthur's hair was combed, the dirt, sweat, and salt washed from his skin. Kelp and blossoming aquatic flowers from the shallows of the ocean were draped and woven about his chest and legs. Arthur watched them; their hands, so seemingly clumsy with webbing, were swift and precise in their movements, their lips were shaped like curved bows around thin sets of sharpened teeth. The skin on their tails shimmered with water while their human-esque skin seemed to keep a constant dampness about it. They were, in all, eerie creatures with gemlike eyes and rounded breasts, absent of nipples and covered loosely with kelp and stringed pieces of shells. Eerie and not human, but frighteningly beautiful.

When they finished, Arthur glanced at his new apparel. Across his chest was a matted necklace of kelp, bright flowers woven into weaving designs; his legs were wrapped neatly in the green, leafy plant as well, fanning palm leaves and lilies tied to his feet in mock of the mermaid's elaborate tailfins. They carried him down the small, winding stream that emptied into the salty ocean before setting him gently in the surf and pressing pieces of colored shells into the wet sand around him. In confusion, Arthur could only watch, sated and awed, until all at once the mermaids flung themselves into the ocean and out of sight.

Arthur wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. For a few moments he waited to see if they would return, giggling and singing and going about their day as they had in the past. But when they didn't, he wondered if maybe he had dreamed up the entire occurrence out of delusion and a lack of clean water; but then he found his legs were still bound and his thirst was quenched – there had to have been an explanation. It was so strange, and so odd. Why would they simply leave him like that?

He struggled against the seaweed bindings, intent on returning to his makeshift camp in the forest, but then he heard a splash nearby. Arthur looked to the ocean to see if maybe one of the mermaids had come back to explain. He was half shocked to see a mer_man _with wet blond hair and a crown of vibrant coral about his forehead, and half relieved that he wasn't as crazy as the thought he was after all.

The merman pulled himself along the surf, his dolphin-esque tail thudding in the sand as he went, his movements even still graceful until he was before Arthur, broad chested with streamline musculature – Arthur felt inadequate in comparison. He didn't know how to respond (what _does _a person say to a creature that is said to not exist at all?). Slowly he mustered his courage and said, "Hello…?"

Almost immediately the merman's hands were on him, touching his face and shoulders, long fingers rubbing against his nipples, moving around to his back and groping anything he could touch. Arthur sputtered in outrage, fighting against the merman's hold, but each time the merman asserted himself more and more forcefully until Arthur could do nothing but submit with loud curses and cries.

"I am Alfred," the merman said when Arthur had finally quieted.

The merman stared at Arthur expectantly, his eyes such an entrancing shade of blue that Arthur found he could not look away as he whispered, "Alfred…"

Alfred smiled, showing his pointed teeth. Arthur would have been unnerved if the smile hadn't seemed so sincere, if he hadn't felt so strangely numb. The merman gathered Arthur into his arms and said, "Don't worry, I'll take care of you from now on. You're mine… So you will have the best."

And it was at that moment Arthur realized he had become an exotic pet of a merman.


	3. Chapter 3

**If You Love Something**

His portion of the ocean wasn't traversed much by mankind. On occasion, there were the massive boats and frigates that carried fleets of humans at a time; sometimes there were smaller ones with strange, blinking equipment attached to the bottom of the hull. But it had been many a year since such a small, more primitive boat passed over his waters. Of course he was instantly curious, as merfolk tended to be, and this arrival broke the mundane ins-and-outs of everyday life – but it had been very, very long since he had seen a human up close.

Following his curious nature, Alfred followed the small vessel over the course of a day. He swam close enough to the hull to touch the bottom as it skimmed along the waves. Where were they going? He wondered to himself; who was on this tiny boat in the middle of the ocean? It would take days to cross his waters at this meandering pace, and Alfred fully intended on finding out as much as he could to stave off his boredom for weeks to come.

On the second day Alfred was sure that there was but one person on the boat. He had spotted their shadow cast in the glimmering sunlight on the water's surface. He had caught sight of the bumbling form as it fought for balance on deck in the choppy waters.

Sometimes the women joined him in his stalking, splashing about the water near the boat in play, and humming gentle melodies that carried softly though the water. At one point their fun was quickly put to an end when one mermaid, whose tail was the color of the velvet evening sky, splashed too close and garnered the attention of the human on board. They all dived down, deep enough to remain unseen, but close enough to see the images distorted in the watery ocean surface. The merfolk grouped together in anticipation, a few of the women swimming in hapless, agitated circles.

It was then that Alfred saw the human's face for the first time, lively and beautiful as it stared into the depths – and he vowed it would not be the last.

Constantly the human's image would plague his idle mind. The long face and squared jaw, golden hair that seemed to sparkle and dance on the water's surface; but most of all, he thought about the wide, curious green eyes. The color was as simple as the kelp all around him, but there was something different about the human's color, something intelligent, something _new_.

And Alfred decided he _must _have it.

The following days were spent scheming and fantasizing, pulling mischief on the human and daydreaming about his ends and means. The women, at his bidding, began to push large rocks from the ocean's bottom into the motor of the boat, hooking old, tired chains and ropes from ships sunk long ago to the small emergency ladder and pulled the craft off course slowly.

In the meantime Alfred kept to himself, weaving the currents and undercurrents between his fingers, gathering his strength and wit and power from the ocean that he governed. And as he waited, he thought. He would obtain this human, make it his, and do as he pleased. But what? There was something so exotic about humans, and it had been nearly a half century since he had seen one, but they were strange. It was something about their legs and the shapes of their feet, how their hands lacked webbing and enjoyed lacing their fingers together. He wanted to remember what that dry skin felt like, to see how well those human's legs worked, he wanted to hear the crisp voice that had been in air all its life.

And it had been even longer since he had courted. The women here bored him, he knew it, they knew it, and they all went about their days. Sometimes the women left him to trick sailors from their ships, sometimes they came back, and sometimes new ones replaced them. Women had the freedom and he the power.

But he could make the human stay, make the human love him and become his mate as the women did as they pleased.

On the fifth day Alfred began his enchantment.

The ocean itself was a mystical, powerful place. He took the threaded currents, the feeling of life and power of water, into his hands and bound it together. All he needed was the human's name and its acknowledgement of his existence – as a part of the ocean, as something greater, as its mate and ruler, and the human would be bound to him, by magic of the ocean and by the will of his own.

With the enchantment's terms set firmly in his mind, he made his way to the lost boat, pulling himself up the side and peering discreetly onto the deck. The human was as gorgeous and strange as his memory served, if not more so. Alfred watched patiently, waiting until the human went into the hull, fumbling over navigational charts. He seized the moment of absence to haul himself further up, grasping the boats' railings, and snatched the human's forgotten journal.

He was lucky, somehow, that the ink didn't bleed, or that the pages didn't tear as he fumbled through them beneath the waves. Humans had come a long way since he last remembered, but his thoughts were derailed when he finally found what he was looking for amongst all the unfamiliar terms and scientific notes:

"_Researcher Arthur Kirkland"_

Alfred couldn't wait to his his name ghosted wantonly from the human's pink lips.

* * *

_Unimportant Notes: _Hi guys! It's day three, and I hope you're starting to see the trend. :) (Also sorry for the short chapters, but this is what I write in a day while out on vacation to keep myself occupied while road tripping. x.x)


	4. Chapter 4

**If You Love Something**

This was going to be the highlight of his career. He had been chosen out of _dozens _of other researchers – _him_. It would be _his _name sitting gallantly on top of each bundle of scientific data and theories:

Arthur Kirkland.

It was a risky job. Three months on the open ocean, resupplying whenever necessary and he was able, to test the chemical, acidic, and salinity levels of ill-traveled areas of the ocean at different depths, and he would compare the results to the thriving (or not) aquatic life and study its effects. Of course it had been done before, seven years prior, and it wasn't anything particularly interesting or remotely explosive about the data, but in the scientific community, risk were applauded when they yielded results, and Arthur was taking a huge risk by going alone.

But this was his chance to prove himself, to have his name hold _some _kind of weight behind it.

He had already come far in his journey, spending a month diligently taking samples and recording clear and concise notes in a bound journal with waterproof pages and marked with a waterproof pencil. He couldn't risk losing his data over a single splash of a misguided wave.

The equipment given to him was slightly dated, but sturdy and functional. He watched the square screen of the navigational system carefully, double checking the plotted course with maps. Even the slightest mistake could leave him drifting in the endless ocean for days on dwindling supplies.

But now he was in one of the more remote parts of the Pacific, and this was his chance to find some new and interesting data, since the area hadn't been observed well or often over the past decade. The days were calm and the sky was cloudless, the winds uninterrupted and strong. They were beautiful days for sailing. With his spirits high, and hopes higher, Arthur began his work, testing the waters at several different depths, letting his measuring equipment drop as far as the rolled cables on his boat would go.

On a few of the days he swore he glimpsed dolphins following his boat, their tailfins skimming beneath the surface of the water, occasionally splashing off in the distance. It was commonly thought that the sign of dolphins alongside your ship was good luck and well-wishing from the ocean herself, and Arthur's hopes that he would return successful swelled even further.

He was twittering over the analysis that, in this area in particular, the ocean in fact was minutely more acidic than in most places. With a quick hand he made notes and hypotheses and remarked about what he remembered of the animal and plant life he'd seen in the area. And for a moment he was glad he was alone, then no one could see him be so silly over the tiniest change in data.

But before he could worry over it any more, there was a splash near his boat, and he paused, curious. Was it those dolphins again? He peered over the side of the boat and into the sun streaked water. Momentarily the back of his neck tickled and the cradle of his stomach warmed, but he shook the feeling off and returned to his work. He had more important things to do than wonder what was beneath the murky waters.

After that day, things began to go awry for Arthur. His motor would stutter and clink and he would drift along the currents for hours as he attempted to get it started once again. There was a constant humming in his ear as he worked, and he could never discern the source of it. The sound was soothing and somewhat eerie, and sometimes, as he was watching his navigation screen blink, he could feel himself staring off into space, thinking of nothing but the strange noise, until he forced himself into consciousness and found that he had drifted far off course yet again.

Perhaps he had caught himself on an undercurrent? He wondered as he puzzled over his maps and charts, figuring how best to set himself on track. The sky was beginning to overcast, and the occasional drizzle poured into the ocean in the not so far off distance. Arthur fretted, unable to make satellite contact for weather updates. This hadn't been predicted. But he was sure he could manage if he simply stayed within the hold, his radio at hand.

Those who didn't take risks weren't rewarded.

Everything around Arthur seemed to collapse when he found his journal was missing. He'd stepped into the hull for merely ten minutes to check the navigation systems and when he'd returned, his journal wasn't where he had set it last. That book, the small, leather bound journal with thick, yellowed pages – that was his career. It was his life and his work, and now it was gone. He thrashed around the deck, overturning equipment and tarps, desperate hands touching every surface he could, his mind unwilling to believe that perhaps it had gone overboard. He _needed _that journal.

In his turmoil he hadn't noticed the rapidly approaching storm – one that had seemed so far off in the distance was actually mighty and frightening when above him. Lightening jumped between swollen, black clouds and the ocean seeped with the feeling of wrath as the choppy waves grew and the wind howled in his ear.

Arthur tried to crawl back beneath deck, the waves tilting the small boat back and forth as more and more water splashed onto the deck, forcing Arthur to slip further and further away from his goal. His back hit the boat's railing and he clung to them with every ounce of strength he believed he possessed as the tiny boat began to capsize.

The last things Arthur Kirkland remembered were the noise of the roaring ocean in his ears, the feeling of hands on his body – or was it hands? He couldn't tell; and the bubbly sound of his name being called beneath the water's waves.


	5. Chapter 5

**If You Love Something**

Alfred's hands traveled across his chest, a warm water sensation prickling at his skin where ever Alfred touched him. Arthur pressed himself closer to the merman, wantonly, begging for the merman's moist touch, murmuring sweet words that seemed to force themselves from between his lips.

"I love you, Arthur," Alfred said, his voice rasping and heady in the summer air. "Don't you love me too?"

Arthur's naked legs shifted in the sand as he squirmed into a more lewd position on Alfred's 'lap', the shining, rubbery blue skin a familiar and erotic feeling beneath his bare ass and balls. He rubbed himself against Alfred, but there was the question lingering in the air within the few centimeters between their mouths. Arthur closed his eyes, a whimper crawling out his throat. He refused to become lost in the perfection of Alfred's eyes; he _needed _to free himself from this bond, somehow. He _needed _to fight. "Why would you ask me that?" he said instead of the simple words that wanted to spill from him. Arthur's limbs trembled with the stress of resisting the enchantment, even for the briefest of times. "Why ask when you know what you'll make me to say?"

Alfred's webbed hands stopped to rest on his hips, flinching in shock. It had been two years and in all this time, now had been the first Arthur had said anything in regards to their predicament – about the enchantment, about being Alfred's mate, about the terms. Alfred was stunned, confused and horny and speechless. What had prompted this response? What had he done wrong? Was the enchantment waning, perhaps? But that couldn't be possible, as he tended to its terms often. Finally words found him and his hands slowly began to inch their way up Arthur's sides, hoping to tease him into agreeing. "What do you mean, my mate?"

He couldn't open his eyes, despite the soft touches and nibbles of sharp teeth, he didn't want to see would probably be the confusion and hurt in the merman's eyes, lest the spell upon him make his heart break with guilt (although he could already feel it beginning to). "You make me say these things… what if… they are… untrue?" Arthur's voice choked and cracked on the last word, his eyes opening on their own accord – enraptured and strangled in Alfred's wild gaze.

"Untrue?" the merman repeated, his warbling voice strained as the implications became clear to him. "False? _My _love is real! So can yours be! It _is_! Tell me it is."

The waves in the surf around them began to crash upon Arthur's lower back instead of tickling at the bottoms of his feet, making angry, hissing noises as the water retreated through the sand. Arthur felt his resistance seep from his body, hot tears pricking his eyes as his arms wrapped around the back of Alfred's damp neck. "I love you, Alfred," he cried pathetically.

The wind howled through the trees and fauna of the nearby forest as Alfred grasped Arthur's shoulders and pushed him roughly onto the sand, towering powerfully over the stranded researcher venomously. "tell me it's true, Arthur! Tell me it's not just magic! _Tell me_!"

Arthur only closed his crying eyes and whispered what he knew only to be the truth, "I don't know."

When he opened his eyes again, Alfred was gone and the ocean was gray and angry, choppy waves sloshing in turmoil and pain. Arthur wept.


	6. Chapter 6

**If You Love Something**

For the duration of a week, Alfred didn't visit him. Arthur fretted over this turn of events, his nerves taut and bundled. It was empty without Alfred to fill the void. He was still cared for each day, the mermaids bringing him to the freshwater pond and bathing him, grooming him and feeding him, occasionally tying bright plants around his wrists and ankles as they sang their wordless songs. Normally he would find the sessions relaxing, simply listening to the harmonies and melodies, but now he couldn't. Alfred hadn't called for him or sought him out. He had seen neither head nor tail of the merman, and that fact didn't sit well in the cradle of his stomach.

Their beachside encounters weren't only about sex. Sometimes he wished they were, simply so he had a reason to be more spiteful than he already was, but many visits were subdued, the orange sun setting on the distant horizon of the ocean as they held broken conversations – about Arthur's past, the world beyond the island, even simple things such as preferences in color and food. And Arthur, in lack of any true company (as the mermaids had yet to speak directly to him since the day the lured him to the beach), found himself enjoying the merman's presence; marginally.

"Where are you?" he whispered into the salty wind, aching and lonely; because now he was alone, and it was a feeling that ate at him from the inside and out.

On the final day of the second week, Alfred called him. Arthur perked up in his shelter, woven fern leaves above his head to keep out the drizzle that plagued the island often. The sound was so familiar yet a distant memory all the same. It was something akin to the hollow noise of a conch, but softer and tuned. He was never sure if he heard it with his ears, or if it was simply a production of his mind. Arthur hastily scampered to the beach, much like a young boy runs home in fear of his mother's wrath.

Alfred, as always, was waiting for him the surf, his dolphin-esque tail slapping at the foamy water, sending agitated droplets about. Arthur ran to him, falling into the wet sand before the merman, his hands reaching out to hold that ocean-sprayed face. He had been so alone, isolated, and worried. To see Alfred again, even as obviously upset as he was, was a relief on his heart – whether it was his own feeling or not. But Alfred pushed his hands away with a heartbroken scowl. "Look," he said simply, pointing out into the ocean.

Arthur's eyes followed Alfred's trajectory, spotting a small, white boat drifting just past the shallows. "Is that… Is that my boat?" he asked in disbelief, looking back to Alfred questioningly, hoping that all of this was actually real. His fingers dug into the sand, unable to find anything else to do. There was his salvation, right before him. This entire time, it was right there – for two years he had suffered on this island that he began to reluctantly call home out of despair. There was an unnamable emotion boiling in his stomach; anger? Guilt? Fear? He didn't know.

"It sunk," Alfred said after a long moment, drawing his shoulders back and cutting a rather imposing figure as he sat in the surf. "Two years ago," he clarified.

"But now…" Arthur hesitated. What did this all mean? Was it a cruel joke? Some lesson set up by the merman to teach him not to fight the confines of the enchantment? Or… did he even dare to think it, but was Alfred, perhaps, giving him a chance to be free? His chest swelled with a hope that he dared not express.

"But now it's not." Alfred's mouth was set into a firm line, his eyes staring dispassionately at the forest inland. "The magic… it only stretches as far as my territory." Impossibly blue eyes shut. "You say you don't know; the magic confuses you. It's my fault and…" A long, pained sigh. "I love you. You're my mate, but… I want your real love, not the magic's love."

Arthur could scarcely believe his ears. He pulled himself up to a crouching position, towering slightly over Alfred as he readied himself to sprint. "So you're letting me go?"

There was a pregnant pause between the two of them as Alfred's face began showing a range of conflicting emotions from grief to anger. Finally the merman nodded firmly and Arthur ran before Alfred could get out a single word. He ran into the choppy waves, ignoring the way his feet dug too deeply in the sand below and how the water buckled against his knees. The boat seemed so far as he swam desperately, almost unobtainable – like a dream sequence that ended with him drowning and waking up sweating in his makeshift shelter.

But Alfred was already there, waiting with a petulant stare, his webbed hand resting against the side of the boat. Alfred waded next to him, grasping at the emergency ladder on the side of the boat as they sent each other level stares. "I'll follow you to the end of my territory," Alfred said at length. "And… and if you could…?"

He didn't finish, the words were too broken and hopeful. Arthur's heart wrenched and he climbed the ladder with determination. "I'll find a way to tell you."

For a fleeting moment Alfred covered his hand with his own, the outer edges of his palms a shimmering light blue that caught the sun just enough to draw Arthur's eyes. "There's a lot of power in a name," he said cryptically before diving beneath the water's surface and out of Arthur's sight.

Arthur waited with baited breath, watching the temperament of the ocean waters and skies before starting the boat's motor and ducking into the hull, more than surprised to find all of his equipment, maps, and even utensils within the small cabin – most of them in functional order. He plotted his course and took up his radio, starting up a S.O.S signal as the boat began to move forward, only the occasional splashing noise belying that he wasn't alone.

And when he was sure everything was ready for a rescue, he returned to the deck, his heart heavy and limbs weak. There was a guilt that wedged its way between his ribs; it was a pain that he couldn't describe, as if he were leaving behind his entire life instead of returning to it. He looked over the edge, frowning at the dark sensation that caused him to shiver with displeasure. That damn spell…

But then he noticed, back in the distance, Alfred's head above the water, the vibrant crown a mere blotch upon the waves, and the reality crushed him with a sudden inexplicable weight.

He was free.


	7. Chapter 7

**If You Love Something**

Arthur sat on the grainy beach, driftwood and pockmarked seashells all about him. It had been almost an entire year since he had been rescued from his drifting boat by a passing fishing boat. He had moved to the sparsely populated islands of southern Florida under the presumption that he would be studying the geographical evolutions of angelfish. That idea alone was horrifically boring, but there was something alluring about living on a small island, away from the crowds and daily rush that he had once been so accustomed to.

And then there were the nightmares – or, rather what were _once _nightmares. He wasn't sure he could call them that anymore. Now they were simply memories of a time he thought he would be able to forget with the passing of the days. But even now, as he threw himself into his pointless work with fervor, he would catch himself thinking – reminiscing – about moist hands and inhuman love bites and soft caresses that were, at their most basic, filled with adoration and possessiveness that left his heart aching at its absence.

He was ashamed to admit it, but no one before or since Alfred had ever loved him in the ways the merman had. No one had ever wanted him by their side as much as Alfred did, no one had loved and cared for him so thoroughly and completely, and even if the means didn't match the ends, Arthur knew, somewhere in the aching, healing void of his heart, that the merman hadn't meant to rip Arthur's life asunder; that he had only acted according to his nature; possessive, craving affection, childish. And Arthur wished that it hadn't taken him this long to understand that. That it had taken him this long, free from the ocean's magic, that his feelings had been his alone – just not his words.

But most of all he was ashamed that after all this time, the long days and cold nights spent alone in his bed, he only just now realized that he did, in fact, love Alfred. Perhaps it was not the most pure feeling, as it ached and burned at his chest when he realized that never again would he see that ocean-sprayed face, that he would never again run his fingers along the rubbery blue skin that glistened like gems in the sunlight. And each day that realization weighed down on him, drowning him until he managed to pull himself up for air.

Some evenings he stared out into the ocean, hoping to see that wet blond hair and those dazzling blue eyes; he hoped for the conversations about the world and the ocean and about love or politics. He wasn't sure why, but no one ever seemed to ask the questions Alfred did – didn't seem to enjoy him as much as Alfred had, and Arthur was sure, now, that he was enchanted – albeit in a much different way.

A simple green glassed bottle lay heavily in his hands as he sat in the surf, trying to remember the best of his days and forget the worst. Everything he felt; the anger, the frustration and helplessness that he had suffered while on that island – he wrote it all down; there was the fear and the pain, the struggle, but there was also the overwhelming love, the mystery and magic, and even on some days he had contented himself with his fate. All of it was bore on yellowed, waterproof pages, rolled up meticulously and tucked neatly inside the bottle.

He didn't know what he wanted, didn't know how to get it or what to do, so instead he decided to let it go.

Arthur watched the corked bottle sweep away in the crosscurrents, leaving the island without fanfare. Hopefully as it drifted further and further away, it would bring the researcher a type of peace that he hadn't felt in years.

At the top of the very first page, in cramped handwriting, it read:

_To Alfred_


	8. Chapter 8

**If You Love Something**

He stood knee deep in the cresting waves, occasionally wading out further, only to let the waves push him back towards the shore gently. Gulls cried in the distance, their evening song as they began to stoop in their nests, the sun just beginning to dip into the endless sky, painting the world a soft orange hue.

Arthur had hoped that these evenings spent soul-searching and alone would stop after he had set that bottle free and vowed to let go of his past. But on some days, usually when the sun began its descent, there would be a noise in his mind that wasn't quite there. Arthur didn't even dare speculate as to what it could mean or be. Instead he simply allowed his feet to carry him to the shore, day in and day out, restless and searching, but never finding.

His face and shoulders were covered in freckles these days and not the pink burn of sun that had been ever present while he was stranded. His hair was short again, no longer to his shoulders and only tamed with a bristled shell. In fact, his appearance had changed so much since Alfred had seen him last, what would the merman think of him now?

Arthur sighed loudly. Letting go was so much harder than he had ever thought it would be. Forgetting something like that… it had to be impossible. The sun warmed the back of his neck and he stared, unseeing, into the horizon. Sometimes he thought that he didn't _want _to let go, and the thought scared him.

With a tired, windy breath Arthur closed his eyes and let the name that had plagued him all these years slip effortlessly from his mouth, "Alfred…"

The entire world seemed to hush as the sound of the merman's name tapered off and disappeared onto the breeze. "It's high time I give up this silly notion, isn't it?" he asked himself, ignoring the emptiness around him. Maybe he was talking to the ocean, he didn't know, but for some reason it seemed valid to do so. "He's trapped out there, in those secluded waters, isn't that how it works?" Arthur gave a hopeless sigh. "It's a foolish thing to hope… to hope Alfred will find me."

He waited for a few more minutes, letting the words of his speech whirl around his brain for just a little longer. When nothing happened (and what would even happen?) he shrugged in defeat and turned back towards the shore. But then there was a splash and Arthur's breath caught and his heart skipped. He was afraid to look – afraid that his hopes (what little of them there were left) would be crushed, and nervous that maybe they wouldn't be. Arthur turned back around.

And there, a few feet before him he saw that wet mop of blond hair and the gem blue eyes that he had dreamed about night after night. "Alfred?" he whispered, disbelieving. A ring of sea foam clung stubbornly to the merman's shoulders as he swam forward through the calming waters. Arthur couldn't believe his eyes, but there was no mistaking it. Unthinking he waded down to his waist, watching as Alfred came closer and closer – but something was off. The merman's face was pale, contorted into a strange mixture of hope and pain. Arthur's heart pounded in his ears as he reached out a hand to Alfred.

As if in slow motion, Alfred lifted his hand to Arthur's, but instead of the webbed fingers Arthur was expecting, it was a human's hand, the blue sheen of rubbery skin around his palms bubbling away into sea foam and dropping back to the ocean water with fat plops.

With an experimental air, Alfred laced his fingers between Arthur's stunned ones. "What's going on? What happened?" Arthur asked in a trembling voice.

Alfred lifted a green bottle from beneath the waves. "I found this bottle," he said slowly from a mouth filled with very white and very human teeth, testing how to pronounce and say things anew.

Arthur's stomach fluttered because, despite whatever was happening, Alfred's voice hadn't lost that watery tone that had followed him even to his dreams. "I… how… but, no. That doesn't matter at the moment. I mean, what's happening to _you_?"

The merman smiled painfully. "I gave up the ocean."

"You what?" Arthur didn't understand. Alfred had mentioned on several occasions that merfolk were part of the ocean in the most literal and fundamental sense. But as Alfred pulled closer to him, his grip on the bottle white knuckled as they began to go towards shore, Arthur saw what Alfred meant. He watched as the moved towards more shallow water as the once dolphin-esque tail, the moist, rubbery blue skin of Alfred's lower half, literally seemed to melt off of him, becoming hissing sea foam that caught in the lulled waves as they went, and beneath that were legs. Arthur laid Alfred down on the dry sand, shocked and stunned at the human the once merman had become. "But how…?" he murmured, resting Alfred's head in his lap. "I don't understand… Why would you do this?"

Alfred's smile was weak and he wiggled his toes, wincing as he did so. "You love me," he breathed out, pushing the green bottle to Arthur's chest. "You love me and I came for you, because I love you too."

"But why become a human? How did you even leave your territory? Alfred you look to be in so much pain…"

"It will pass." Alfred stared at their interlocked hands, uncaring that he was sprawled out naked on a semi-public beach front. "I gave up the ocean to be free from my territory – to come for you. I had to… find a replacement… but, Frenchmen are easily fooled by beautiful women."

Arthur's free hand pushed through Alfred's drying hair. He wondered what color it was when completely dry, he'd never seen it so. "Indeed they are," he muttered, his voice shaking and eyes stinging. Was this real? Was he going to wake up from this dream? What is reality without love, anyway? "Alfred, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't go back that day. I should have, I know. But… I thought… I just wanted. And now this and I don't know what to do or say –"

Alfred shushed Arthur with a tired wave of his hand. "Can you say that you love me? No magic."

And as Arthur looked into Alfred's eyes, he could tell that nothing about them had changed. They were still the color of the shallow seas, possessing an old knowledge and secrets that would likely die with him. Arthur smiled wanly and softly said, "I love you, Alfred."

The once-merman smiled largely as Arthur leaned down for a soothing, welcoming kiss. "Now, I suppose I'll have to teach you to use those new legs of yours," he mumbled against Alfred's ear, "And then I'll teach you how to use _other _things, hm?"

Despite the pain the coursed through his body, his nerves aflame with the sensation of losing half of himself and his identity and the wound that parting from the ocean left in his soul, Alfred laughed.

* * *

_Unimportant Notes: _Thank you guys so much for sticking with me during this "write a chapter every day challenge". It was fun, and at times a bit disheartening, but in the end I enjoyed myself immensely. Now I'll be working on the Summer Camp event on LiveJournal for the usxuk community, I hope I'll see some of you there! :D


	9. Chapter 9

**If You Love Something**

There was something to be said for learning a new way of life. It was a difficult process, disheartening and sometimes even terrifying. It must be traumatic and awful – the change from sea to land.

Arthur watched Alfred every day, teaching him how to eat and what to eat, helping him walk by taking small, shaky steps around Arthur's cramped home on the tiny island. He wondered what it was like, to have half of your very being ripped from you and stolen, never to be felt or seen again. How painful it would be, both physically and mentally. Arthur's heart ached for Alfred. The man had given up everything he knew for Arthur, and Arthur knew he would never be able to replace the hole that the ocean had left.

But he did his best to fill it with love.

"How are you today?" Arthur asked as he prepared breakfast that morning. It had been two, long, upsetting months for the both of them. Alfred was so determined to 'remember how to be a human', so ready and eager and beautiful with excitement, that whenever he fell or made a mistake he became discouraged and moped. Arthur let the porridge to warm over a dull flame, seating himself next to a drowsy Alfred to take the once-merman's hands into his own. "Alfred?"

The sandy blond blinked slowly. "Tired," was his lethargic response. "… Really tired."

Arthur frowned, letting go of Alfred's hands to hold his face instead. "Would you like to go back to bed, love? Nothing hurts, does it? You're simply tired is all?"

Alfred's smile was wan, unnaturally dim and worrisome. He didn't want to admit that there was something wrong, that he ached everywhere today, didn't want to scare Arthur or create problems so instead he raised a finger to his lips and said, "I'll be fine if I can have a kiss."

"You smarmy…" Arthur sighed in relief, shaking his head with a chuckle before leaning in for a long, warm kiss. Alfred met him hungrily, nibbling at the tongue that invaded his mouth, licking and biting and simply allowing himself to be consumed in the heat – one that started in his stomach and sprouted into his chest, making his heart beat faster and the dull ache disappear if only for a little while.

He wondered if it would ever go away.

Everyday Arthur would take a small raft out to the coral reefs to study the small and colorful native fish of the island. Sometimes he let Alfred come if he asked, but most days Alfred didn't. Instead the sandy blond would walk down the beachside, letting his toes drag through the sand as he picked up different seashells and bits of coral that washed up on the shore. He would pocket them to show to Arthur later, humming happily to himself as he ambled along.

Arthur found the habit adorable, smiling and examining each shell Alfred produced – occasionally telling the man something about the life of the muscle or snail that had lived within. But he always worried, wondering how large the seashell collection in the bedroom was going to become before everything simply fell apart. Until then, he took Alfred's excited and proud smiles, cherished the mirth in those perfectly blue eyes, and tried to memorize everything about them.

Arthur was out surveying on the boat, the sun just beginning to crest in the cloudless sky. Alfred stood in the surf, letting the small waves lick at his feet as the sand dragged across his toes in the water's wake. It was still such a strange and tantalizing sensation; as having feet and toes was still new to him. Whenever Arthur touched them he would let out a shaky breath upon reflex, so unused to the feeling that he was.

On the ground he had found a little chip of coral, bright orange and still vibrant. He clutched it in his palm as he watched Arthur from the shore, worried that some horrible fate might befall his beloved human, even though he knew there was a very slim chance of anything of the sort happening. Alfred sighed and glanced at the coral bit again. It reminded him so vividly of the crown that represented his part of the ocean; the feeling of being one with the currents and life – a breathing thing beneath the waves. It was a life he found extremely difficult to put into words – even more so when Arthur questioned him about it. How does one describe being alive?

A large wave crashed into his knees and with it, it brought the despair that had been building up within him. He turned, stumbling in the wet sand with a small cry and returned to Arthur's house, trembling with regret and sorrow. He filled the bathtub with warm water (he had found that it was soothing for the unexplainable aches and pains), lining the bottom of the porcelain tub with shells from his collection and stripped himself of the constricting clothing that Arthur insisted that he wear.

The water was quiet and lifeless, the shells scratching along the bottom of the tub as he slipped inside. He did not make a very good human at all. There were never the right words to use, he was always confused by the strange technology that other villagers would show him, he could barely even walk right, and he was sure that he embarrassed Arthur more than he made Arthur happy. That was all he wanted – to make Arthur smile, to love him and be loved; just like Arthur wrote in the little bottled note. As a human he couldn't even be Arthur's _mate_.

Frustrated tears crawled down his face, falling into the water with tiny plopping noises. Alfred sunk lower into the water, crying silently to himself. He _had _done the right thing, hadn't he?

Arthur didn't find him until the water was cold and his fingers and toes had become wrinkled and numb, a strange phenomenon that had amused Alfred at first, but now it only served to remind him of his choices. "Alfred?" Arthur called out into the small house. He set down his bag, the equipment inside clinking against the ground as he began to move through the rooms of the house. Alfred hadn't been waiting for him at the shore, and he normally wouldn't venture into town by himself, so that only left the house.

When he knocked on the bathroom door, there was the noise of a soft splash, and he cracked the door open. "Alfred?" he asked in a worried tone, waiting for the once-merman to tell him to leave. When he didn't, Arthur opened the door further and with a small cry of dismay, hurried to Alfred's side. "Alfred what's wrong?" he urged, taking off his jacket and rolling up his shirt sleeves. Alfred was curled up, his chin in his knees as he stared glumly at the shells that decorated the bottom of the tub. "Alfred…"

"Do you love me?" Alfred asked suddenly, his watery voice low and thick with seeping emotions. "Do you Arthur?"

Arthur relaxed. "Yes, of course I do. Why do you ask?" He wrapped his arms around Alfred's naked shoulders, but the sandy blond only shook his head.

"I would not love me," he said bitterly. "I am a pathetic human. I have no strength, I stumble and I fall, other humans stare at me when I cannot use a … a _phone_; I am half of what I once was and… and – why would you love such a thing as me, the way I am now? I cannot even be your mate!" His hands clasped onto Arthur's arms in front of his chest. "I'm unworthy."

"Don't be silly," Arthur argued. "You changed your whole life. You gave up almost everything that you _are _simply to be with me_. _You're brave, Alfred; brave and beautiful and sweet and if anyone is unworthy, it's _me_. So please…" he sighed, dropping his sentence. "The water's cold, you'll get sick. Come now, let's dry you off."

Alfred allowed himself to be moved from the tub of cold water, dried down with a fluffy towel and escorted to their bed. Arthur had stripped himself as well, pulling himself close to Alfred's shivering body and sighing with his head resting on Alfred's shoulder. "I love you, Alfred," Arthur mumbled just as Alfred began to drift asleep.

He was tired, but rested when he woke next, surprised to find Arthur still curled up by his side. Alfred smiled, tentatively raising a hand to brush his knuckles against Arthur's cheek. Ever since he had revoked the ocean Arthur had been his only constant and that… that was a soothing thought. He may not have the everlasting rush of currents or the whisper of water in his ear, but he would have Arthur – loving, teaching, and always present.

"I love you, too," he said just as Arthur's green eyes began to flutter open. Alfred's hand moved to the back of Arthur's head, pulling the scientist into a sleepy kiss, their lips fumbling and tongues dragging lazily over teeth. "I love you, I love you," Alfred breathed between kisses, his voice growing more and more desperate with every declaration. He loved Arthur wholly and completely, but words only proved so much. "How do I show you I love you?"

"You already do," was Arthur's bland answer, but he sat up and rummaged through a drawer in the nightstand, retrieving a clear bottle of liquid. "But I'm sure that's not what you want to hear." Arthur took Alfred's hand, holding his palm upwards before drizzling the liquid onto Alfred's fingers. "Remember how I would… touch myself before we had sex? How I said it was a bit necessary?" Alfred stared at his hand a moment before nodding slowly. "I… I want you to touch me like that, Alfred. You can, without the webbing on your fingers. Would you?"

Alfred stared at his hand. He remembered watching Arthur reach behind himself, his fingers stretching the muscle of his entrance – to make things easier for him. "You want… to be my mate again?"

"We always have been, Alfred," Arthur said with a disbelieving laugh. "And… the human term for it is lovers. We're lovers and we always will be."

It was as if that simple sentence had filled Alfred's confidence in himself. His smile had returned, lopsided and endearing as his hand moved to Arthur's ass, letting his fingers trace the man's entrance before carefully pressing two fingers inside. Arthur let his head fall to Alfred's shoulder, trusting the once-merman to prepare him, and letting the feeling of being touched so intimately warm his breath as he huffed against Alfred's tanned skin.

Arthur reached between them, palming Alfred's slowly growing erection. He wondered if it felt any different, if the sensations of his hand on Alfred's cock were warmer or maybe brought more satisfaction. A light flush was brought to Alfred's face and Arthur kissed him, demanding more with his tongue and teeth, his free hand grasping for the bottle of lube to slick Alfred's cock.

"Allow me, love," Arthur mumbled, pulling Alfred's fingers from his entrance and carefully guiding Alfred's cock inside instead.

Alfred gasped, his hands flying to his mouth as Arthur sank down onto him. It was reminiscent of the times he was a merman, laying in the sand with Arthur pushing himself down along his length. But now there was so much more feeling, he wasn't sure if it was supposed to be this explosive, this warm, this erotic. "Arthur," he moaned, his hands running over his lover's chest as he breathed deeply. "Arthur, o-oh…"

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked breathlessly, picking himself up and sliding back down, over and over, watching Alfred's expressions closely. Never before had he been this involved in their sex, only going through the motions until it was over. But now he wanted to see everything, wanted to hear his name in hundreds of different tones from that watery voice. He wanted to make Alfred happy and satisfied and he never wanted to see the man so alone and upset like that ever again.

They were so close, his hand fisting his own cock as Alfred tried to find something to do with his own, his hands scrambling across Arthur's skin before gripping Arthur's ass cheeks and squeezing. Arthur was so close, trying to keep his rhythm as he rode Alfred. His thighs began to tremble from exertion and Alfred's name was on the tip of his tongue just as he was kneed harshly in the back.

"I'm so sorry!" Alfred blustered, his face flushed and chest heaving. "My – my legs – I don't… know what to do with them. I didn't…" But Arthur wasn't listening – didn't care. He continued as if nothing had happened and Alfred pulled a pillow over his face, groaning out broken sentences until they both finally reached their climaxes, falling into a tired and sweaty heap.

Alfred pressed his face into the crook of Arthur's shoulder. "Are you mad at me?"

"Mad…?" Arthur pulled away from Alfred, brushing a loose strand of hair away from the sandy blond's face. "Do you mean about that little kick? Of course not, in fact I hardly noticed. Don't fret over it." He smiled, kissing the underside of Alfred's jaw lightly. "Besides, the more we practice, the better it'll get."

And even though he had no magic to call to his whims, no power, nor nothing to govern, Alfred couldn't believe he was able to make Arthur say such things. He may be a weak human, but now he had Arthur – would always have Arthur, and that gave him greater happiness than all of the oceans in the world could.

* * *

_Unimportant Notes: _I forgot I had written this. Oops.


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